


We'll Be Waiting

by notmadderred



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 13:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20724887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmadderred/pseuds/notmadderred
Summary: Jon knew he’d been acting entirely on impulse.He was acutely aware of this fact as he shut the door to Martin’s office. It felt like an impenetrable divide, a barrier between him and the once-effervescent person that was Martin Blackwood.He missed Martin. The feeling ran far, surging deep in his chest and spidering out like the Web. He missed Martin. Jon missed him, though they had supposedly spoken only moments before.With a muted sigh, he leaned against the wall just beside the door. His breaths felt wet, tangled together. Breathing made him ache, made him want to bring a hand to his heart as though to stop the pain. Jon was exhausted. He was hungry. He missed Martin.





	We'll Be Waiting

Jon knew he’d been acting entirely on impulse.

He was acutely aware of this fact as he shut the door to Martin’s office. It felt like an impenetrable divide, a barrier between him and the once-effervescent person that was Martin Blackwood.

He missed Martin. The feeling ran far, surging deep in his chest and spidering out like the Web. He missed Martin. Jon missed him, though they had supposedly spoken only moments before.

With a muted sigh, he leaned against the wall just beside the door. His breaths felt wet, tangled together. Breathing made him ache, made him want to bring a hand to his heart as though to stop the pain. Jon was exhausted. He was hungry. He missed Martin.

He drew back his neck, letting his head thump against that wall as he choked something down. His eyes closed, and for a second he let himself imagine a world like this; a world dark and unseeing and finally _free_.

But Martin wasn’t there.

Something wet dripped down his cheek. 

He clenched his fists.

This wasn’t right.

So many things weren’t right about this. Martin was _right there_, but he was so far away -- Jon wasn’t even sure he knew Martin anymore. 

Martin certainly no longer knew him.

He swallowed another sob and ran his hands against his face to wipe away the tears.

Fuck. _Fuck._

Jon pulled himself off the wall, opened his eyes, clenched his fists, lifted his chin, and began to stroll away.

He could have just said it. He had the perfect opportunity -- the words were on his tongue, but he was a damn _coward_. They could run away together, sure. But Jon could never be worth it for Martin. Martin was too… too _good_; had been since long before he came to the Institute. And Jon was a monster. A living, breathing monster who had gone months saying nothing only to run into his office and blather on about gouging their eyes out.

He scoffed, let his lips curl up in a snarl as he kept walking. He was an idiot. A hopeless goddamn _romantic_, of all things, who had honestly believed, if only for a moment, that running to Martin would make this work.

Everyone else in his life had shut him out one way or another. Perhaps he’d been hoping Martin was different. 

But Martin had laughed.

And Jon broke.

It had been cruel, not in the fact that it was targetted at Jon but rather because Martin had almost seemed to be laughing at himself. It was as though Jon had doomed himself before he stepped foot through that door, his years of unceasing cruelty toward Martin coming to a crux and closing him down entirely.

He deserved this. He deserved worse.

Martin had decided that he needed to be alone. Jon was certain that he didn't _deserve_ to be -- but Jon did. He deserved the fate Martin was subjecting himself to.

Jon had caused nothing but harm for the people he’d wanted to call his friends.

Perhaps… perhaps it would be better if he just… got away. Left. 

In his coma, he hadn’t wanted to die. By now, he’d resigned himself to such a fate, though he still didn't want it.

But he could leave them now. He could avoid causing them any more pain. 

Once upon a time, Jon had prided himself on not being impulsive. It had always been a lie.

He squared his jaw and began stalking toward his own office. There was a letter opener in the left middle drawer. It would have to do.

Something grabbed his arm.

He yelped and spun around, flinging himself away and letting the snarl from before settle once more on his features. How hadn’t he Seen--

Daisy. It was just Daisy.

She held up her hands as though in defense, but there was no urgency in the action. “What’s got you in such a rush?”

He blinked. His mind fell blank. He simply stared at her, mouth dropping open and shut until he finally glanced away.

He could practically feel the uncertainty rolling off her, the unfamiliarity of it pulsing through both her and him alike.

Then, “Jon,” she said. “What happened?”

He swallowed. Realized with a bolt of shame that, as he had been tramping across the damn Institute, he must have started crying again without even realizing it. “Nothing,” he bit out, then turned on his heel to leave.

She grabbed his arm again, and this time he froze. That feeling was bubbling in his chest again.

“What are you in such a hurry to do,” she said flatly. The unsympathetic tone was a relief.

“Gouge my eyes out,” he answered just as flatly.

This was enough to make her pause. Then she shifted so she was in his line of sight, looking up at him with a critical expression. “You’re crying.”

His face twitched. He probably even blushed at that despite the absurdity of such a reaction. “So?”

She sighed and leaned back on her heels. “Let me guess--”

“Oh, don’t play c--”

“You decided to talk to Martin.”

He huffed but offered no rebuttal.

“Can’t say I’ve ever seen you in a state quite like this, so that really is the only possible answer.” Now, it sounded like she was wearing a smile. “He has that effect on you, doesn’t he?”

He frowned. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

She tilted her head. “It is.”

No, it wasn’t. Not for him. Not for Martin.

“As much as I would love to know if you tellin’ me you’re about to gouge your eyes out is some… attempt at a joke, I think I rather need to know what Martin said to you that has you in such a state.”

“It’s nothing.” He crossed his arms. The effect was lost by the fact that his voice wavered.

“Right,” said Daisy dryly. When Jon continued to simply stand there, she continued, “Look, I know Martin has been a bit… off-putting lately. A bit of an ass, if I’m to be entirely honest -- the loneliness hasn’t been doing wonders for him or his attitude. But as much as dealing with it is a pain, we have to do exactly that. Which, I should remind you, was _your_ suggestion -- we have to trust him.”

“It isn’t that,” he said. As an afterthought, he wished he hadn’t sounded so desperate, so pleading. But he was exhausted. His self-control was wavering. “At least, not… not entirely. I don’t think I should… I- I can’t…” He bit down on his lip. God, since when did he start doing _that_ \-- it had always been a habit of Martin’s that he’d often look down upon, but here he was--

“You know he loves you, right?”

The remark threw him off.

Daisy had the audacity to look _bored_.

“Pardon?” he said.

“He loves you, Jon, and you love him. It’s obvious for everyone except the two of you. It just so happens that you’re both also in shitty situations of life and keep wanting to throw yourselves off cliffs if only to save the other. It’s a tad ridiculous, if I’m being honest. But it’s true. And perhaps you aren’t ready to tell him that, but he knows you at least care. I don’t know what just happened between you two, obviously, but keep in mind the amount of stress you’ve both been under. Things happen. You just gotta do your best to control the aftermath.” She shrugged. “I’ve learnt that the hard way.”

“You--” he said, and then didn't know what else to say. But something was settling within him. The words were there -- he just had to keep getting used to them. More and more often he’d been realizing other people’s value, both as individuals and as an influence on him. “Thank you,” he said.

“Don’t mention it.”

“But, uh…” He shifted, his limbs feeling a tad too long for a moment. “What exactly did you mean by--”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I’m finished.” 

Once again, she was looking at him with an impenetrable stare.

He felt his lips twitch upwards, an odd angling against the side of his mouth. “Right.”

Daisy was right about many things.

Jon still had quite a lot of growing to do.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “What are--”

“Do you mind if I hug you?” he said.

It sounded twisted and utterly absurd coming from him, his tone both stilted and abrupt.

“Hug,” she parrotted.

To avoid embarrassing himself further, he chose not to speak. Instead, he dipped his chin in something of a nod.

She obviously thought about it for several moments. “Can’t say I’ve ever been much of the hugging sort.”

“Look who you’re talking to,” came automatically.

Then _her_ lips twitched upwards, so brief he would have missed it had he blinked. “Fine. Go ahead.”

It was weird. He knew this objectively. He knew this pragmatically. His mind recoiled a bit -- this wasn’t _him_ \-- except it was who _he_ wanted to be, who _Jonathan Sims, still partly human_, wanted to be. Before it was too late for such sentiments.

He bent down, wrapped his arms around her, and hugged, letting his chin rest briefly on the top of her head.

She snorted. Then she hugged back, and the warmth spread through him, a calming sense of familiarity settling in his bones. “I don’t think either of us is particularly good at this.”

Her fingers twisted the back of his shirt as she gripped tighter. “No,” he mused, “but I suppose that’s fitting.”

“You’re too gangly for it.”

“And you’re too short.”

“Shut up.”

They pulled back, and both of them were grinning now. “Do me a favor,” she said, “and wait a bit to gouge your eyes out.”

He huffed. “Of course. I’ll… try to keep my head on straight.”

She gave him a look.

He gave her one back. “You know what I meant.”

“I’m sorry, your phrasing was--”

“Stop joking, Daisy. It doesn’t suit you.”

“I’d like to think it does now.”

He frowned. “You say that because you only joke at my expense.”

Daisy shrugged once more. “You may be right. Now I have some work to do. I believe Martin and I need to have a talk.”

Just like that, she began walking away.

The words registered. “Wait,” he said.

She didn't turn. 

“Wait!” he repeated, stumbling a bit as he went to follow her. She increased her pace. “Daisy! Don’t--”

“Don’t bother Jonathan Sims, or you’ll be down yet another rib.”

“_Daisy!_”

**Author's Note:**

> *listens to Episode 154*
> 
> fUCK here fandom have some happs(?)
> 
> why yes i did abandon all other projects for a spell simply to write this why do you ask


End file.
